


Two eyes, a smile, one dies

by SlaveToGravity



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Accidental, Angst, Bridge - Freeform, Death, Inspired by Truce, Inspired by twenty one pilots, Lamppost, M/M, Moon, Night, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, Teenagers, gun - Freeform, river - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 15:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8719027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlaveToGravity/pseuds/SlaveToGravity
Summary: He had a date, he had a gun, he had a place. He had everything, prepared from a long time ago. He just didn't prepare Mark enough.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay frens, I'm back just for this one. It's been a while since I didn't write anything, I've got some writer block (is it the good expression ? )  
> Anyway, I'm gonna let you read, I guess. See you at the end ~

" Please, stop. I beg you, stop. "

          It never answered. What was it, anyway ? He never knew. An infestation of his own mind ? It could never answer, so he didn't know. And maybe he will never know.

" Please, don't move anymore. Please. "

          Was it... It ? Or himself ? He needed to see a part of this strange face. Or only a part, a little part of skin of the body at only two, maybe three meters away from him. He needed help. He needed someone to help him find out who, or what was after him, what was forcing him to be scared, to run away, to be just at the edge of this strangely lonely bridge, with those way too bright lights, at night, dark cold night. He just needed a hair, a part of skin, an inch of their eyes, a second of sound from their voice. if it was even human.

" I beg you, stop. If you move closer, I'm gonna do it. "

          His feet touched the edge of the bridge. No wall, no wupport, nothing was there to stop him. Nothing. The street was deadly silent, deadly cold, maybe deadly dead. Only the shadow with no form, the human corpse with no aura in front of him, moving, taking each step slowly, almost confortably, reassuringly. It stopped, putting one hand reassuringly on his shoulder. His left shoulder, exactly. It tried to speak, it moved it's mouth, but no sound came out. Only the wind, cold, freezing, broke the silence in his ear.

" Please, don't touch me. Let me kill my fuckin' self. "

          A smile. In the middle of the black emptiness of what was supposed to be ahead, a smile formed. Pinkish lips, shattered, almost faded, with white and little teeth shining under the yellowish lamppost. Its mouth moved again, forming words, strange words. he thought he could read "I love you", but maybe was it just another deformation of his mind's imagination.

" - Stop.  
\- I'm here for you.  
\- Shut up, go away.  
\- Please... "

          It moved closer, closer, again and again. He was scared, too scared. He pulled the trigger. The detonation resonated on the cold night, the little white smoke flied and hit the the dusty lamppost. He let the gun fall. He never caught it.

~.~

" - I saw it again.  
\- Your dream ?  
\- Yes. "

          Silence fell between the two boys. They stared at each other reassuringly, almost comfortable. Almost.

" - Has it changed ?  
\- No. The end is still the same. The blood... I don't know if it's mine or not. And I don't know if I fall or if I shoot my head. I think I die. But I know almost nothing about this fuckin' dream, you know.  
\- I know. "

          The red-headed boy sighed again. He looked around him, inspecting his friend's place. It never changed. And surely, hopefully, it will never change. He looked back at the boy in frot of him, sitting quietly in the queen-sized bed.

" It's really messed up, you know. Maybe you should see a therapist or something like that. I don't know where kids go.  
\- I don't know...  
\- About the therapist or where kids go ? "

          Another silence. Would it be louder one day ? This place was too quiet for a teenager. Almost dead. Almost.

" Both. "

          The red-headed boy stood up and, taking his bag full of notebooks, sighed. He approached the green-headed boy and put his hand reassuringly on his shoulder. His left shoulder, exactly. he kissed softly his forehead.

" - I'll see you tomorrow, okay ? Stay safe.  
\- I will. "

          The older leaned against the doorframe, watching silently his friend closing his eyes, laying sleepily on the queen-sized bed way too big for his thin body. He switched off the lights and closed the door, slowly. Only one slightly crack resonated in the dark and warm room. Only one. And this one and only sound made sean's body shiver. The nightmare came again. With no more informations, no more clues. Only fear, anxiety, more depressing stories. Sean was dead inside. And maybe not enough on the outside, he thought.

~.~

" - Again ?  
\- Again. "

          Sean whispered back. He leaned discreetly on the wooden table - or was it on plastic ? He didn't know. He tried to whisper again but the teacher, a tall and thin man with white plastic glasses and a voice way too deep for the sanity of some persons, Sean being one of them, repremented them. Sean gasped quietly and leaned back on his wooden - or plastic - chair. Mark chuckled slightly, only earning a glare from his friend.

" - Not funy.  
\- Sorry. "

          Sorry not sorry. Mark couldn't erase the smile off his face. Moking or teasing, Sean was like an occupation for him. It made him feel better.It was making both of them feel better. Teasing was maybe the only way to stop them from crying. Sometimes, they needed it. Other times, it wasn't enough, and they would just hurt themself, each other, the few around them. sean stoped laughing. He watched Mark carefully, as if hiw own stare could break this strange body. Sean never liked his stare. Too artificial, too intense, sometimes too passionate. He didn't know why exactly. He never liked seeing anything, not even his own blue eyes. They were too clear, too bright for his liking. He wanted them grey. One grey eye, maybe one missing, or maybe both. He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he wanted them grey. Not blue, not like the sky, because it might fall on his head one day. And he will never wake up again after that. The sky is a traitor, everyone knew that. And Sean surely knew it too. Too much, maybe. He was becoming paranoïd.

" - Sean ?  
\- Yes ?  
\- In your dream, that smile, does it look like someone's smile you know ? "

          Sean thought. He searched in his head if he kew who's smile it could be. But, for some reason, not even Mark's smile came in his mind. He saw it only two, maybe one second before that, before this question way too sudden, but he couldn't remember it. He looked hurt, confused.

" - Could you smile for me ? "

          He asked quietly, whispering in his ear discreetly. Mark blushed and leaned back in his chair. He looked hesitantly at the teacher then, seeing him writing obliviously on the white, or maybe cream board, he looked back at Sean's eyes and smiled. He really liked those clear blue eyes. Maybe they were expressless, looking blankly at the world, maybe, sometimes, they were even too sad for him, but he really liked them. In comparaison to his own brown and faded eyes, they were majestic, so poetic, almost intouchable. So he only looked at them everyday, every second, smiling. Sean didn't smile back. he only watched Mark's smile with, this time, fear in his eyes. Little crooked teeth as white as clean human bones, pinkish lips, chapped and almost faded. He looked away, putting his blue wanted to be grey eyes on the teacher's back. Mark stoped smiling. Sean forgot Mark's smile, like his brain erased the strange feeling of danger emanating from this beautiful smile. They never talked about it again and waited for the end of the day to forget the incident, Mark's confusion heaving him, Sean's fear gripping discretly at the blissful heart, trying to be invisible, nonexistent. But it was here, cutting, hurting. Sean just forgot about it. He wanted to, anyway.

~.~

" - You know, if you want to end this, you should do it in a cool way.  
\- Like how ?  
\- I don't know, you can search on the Internet.  
\- You want me to search a cool way to end a life on the Internet ? How fucked up is your brain ?  
\- Hey, that was just a... how do you call it ? Ah, yes, an advice, a tip. A little help, y'know.  
\- I never needed help to help my life, thank you. "

          Mark sighed deeply, closing desperately his eyes. He couldn't handle his friend when he was so intense so decided to do sometimes, ending his life. Not like he was sad or desperate, just that he was a little too hative at killing his body, the outside on his body. sean told him many times that his insides were already dead, is stomach, his kidney, all his organs were already numb, useless, not working anymore, already ill. Sick, not physically but mentally. Mark always thought it was stupid. He laways thought that a little part of Sean was alive. Maybe not his organs, maybe not his head, but his eyes, at leats. They were seeing the world. In a dull and frail manner, yes, but they were seeing it, looking eagerly at every new details that might change his little and non-important life. Mark thought so, anyway. And maybe he was right about that.

" - Maybe you should jjust wait. Someoe could help you, y'know.  
\- And who ?  
\- Your parents, your friends.  
\- They're useless. They don't understand. No one can help me.  
\- Not even me ? "

          Sean stayed silent. He looked at Mark hesitantly. He sighed and put his stare on the box made of iron and painted in white at his side. On it was written "secret"in old, dusty and too trembling black letters. Sean was twelve when he made this. Six years. It's been six years since it all started. He sighed again.

" - You don't count.  
\- How's that ?  
\- You're just not like me. That's all. "

          Mark reported his eyes to the same box Sean was watching. Blades, from kitchen knives to razors, matches, lighters, pills, a black and charged old little gun, and a long, grey and now dusty rope. It surely served for fishing or some shit like that, he thought. It smelled bad.

" - because I don't want to die ?  
\- Yoou never wanted to.  
\- And what about later ?  
\- Come on, Mark, I know you. "

          They laughed. Well, giggled silently. A little smile on their faces, confusion in one's eyes. Did he ever wanted to die ? Maybe. Maybe not, in fact. Even if he didn't like his life, his family and his friends, sometimes not even Sean, he wanted to live? He was one of those guys that never wanted to really give up. Metaphorically, okay, but litterally, never. The other was sure. He was prepared. He's always been.Hince he was twelve, a twelve years old boy, with brown hair, freckles, white teeth and blue eyes, a little innocent and a lot afraid of his own eyes, hiw own allready suicidal thoughts. It wasn't a disgusted birthright, his parents were kind and happy. It wasn't because of a friend, a relationship. He was just born like that. While one would born with cancer or diabete, he was born with a suicidal headcase and blue eyes, no smile, and a short fate. Somehow, he was ready, decided.

" - When ? "

          He never really answered. A vague date and obscured mind. Closed eyes and faded smile. That's what he was now. A vague, blurry answer.

" - Next week. "

~.~

          That was it. He decided. Finally. On his way for his new home, on a little bridge by the side of the city, the lost side that no one liked, that no one ever cared about. White little iron box in his black little bag of textile nd plastic, the all put on his shoulders covered by only a t-shirt and a cotton coat too thin for the weather. It was a beautiful afternoon, almost night, a monday. Or was it a friday ? He lost track of the time a long time ago, he thinks. Or maybe was it just a play. All he knew was that today was the first of december. Oh, was it thursday ? Yes, it was. He remembered now. Well, you have to remember the day of your death, right ? The cold breeze blew his hair. His grey eyes closed at the cold contact. He shuddered. Even if he liked the sensation, even if some would think that liking it would be crazy, he was always surprised by his shudders and his liking for this uncomfortable situation in this cold afternoon, almost night. The sun was ong gone, only the lammposts were here to illuminate the little bridge. For Sean, the bridge, the sight of this forgotten construction, was the most poetic and sad place to die. He didn't know how, he'll find out eventually. He had to die this night after all. He stopped his tracks and he put his shoulder, his left shoulder exactly, on the lammpost to look at the little river under his feet, under the brick bridge. The water was calm, almost waiting for him. The lights were reflecting shadely on the little almost invisible waes. Only the moon, the full moon, was reflecting enough to be seen wavy yet correctly. Sean liked that. He wanted to jump and go to the moon. He never liked the idea of being a slave to Gravity. He wanted to be free, and gaining the moon by the water. So he decided. He droped his bag on the ground loudly. The sound of the blades resonated in the white silence of the now night. He felt happy. His heart was always making the same sound. He smiled and took the box. He searched fastly, cutting multiple times his fingers against the iron razors and the kitchen knives. He sighed when he put his bleeding fingertips on what he was searching. He carefully took the black little gun in his hands. He quietly put it in his back pocket. He wanted to jump and, when his body would be too cold, when his body would want to gain the surface again, he would shot his head under the wavy image of the moon above him. He tried to shoot in the water before, it worked. So why not this time ? He heard steps. One step, two steps, a third, a forth. Too many for his liking, too fast, too impation. They were not running, but they were not walking either. Sean looked up from his bleeding fingertips. A man was here. Red hair, tan skin, a unique fiture for a beautiful man he knew too much. Mark took another step, contemplating scarely Sean's fingers. Sean didn't talk, didn't move. He was almost under his control, the control of the young adult, under his beauty even if his eyes seemed tired, under the surprise of his presence.

" - Are you here to watch me die ?  
\- No. "

           Mark answered firmly, too firmly for his liking. Sean shook his head, surprised, intrigued.

" - Then why are you here ?  
\- I want to stp you. "

          Sean gasped. He didn't, or couldn't, believe him. His words, his presence, everything was too bright, too magic, too sorrowful for him.

" - You can't.  
\- But I want to. "

           Mark took a step forward. Sean, fearing the continuity of his life, took a step back. He didn't want to live? Even if it was for Mark.

" - Why are your eyes grey ?  
\- I put contact lenses on them.  
\- Why ?  
\- I thought that if my eyes were to be grey, I would see the world grey too. It doesn't work. But I like it like that. My eyes were meant to be grey, not blue.  
\- But they were beautiful in blue. "

           Sean smiled. Mark groaned.

" -Why do you smile just at the end ? Why not before ? I like your smile too.  
\- I have the right to be happy about the end of my life, okay ? "

           Mark shook his head negatively. Sean took another step back. It was the first time, for both of them, that they were so far apart. It broke Mark's mind. Not his heart, his heart broke a long time ago, when he met Sean. Now, there was only his mind to keep him happy and live. And yet, Sean wanted to break that too. Mark took a step forward.

" - Please, Sean, don't die.  
\- Why wouldn't I ? You never contredicted me before.  
\- I'm sorry, Sean, I'm sorry. Please, don't die. Not now. I swear, I'll teach you how to love the world again. I'll teach you to appreciate your blue eyes, your bright smile, how to appreciate life. Please, don't die, Sean. I love you. "

          Mark cried. Sean gasped. He didn't want to believe anything. Or he just couldn't find the desire to love back this precious and seemingly secure human in frot of him. Sean took a step back. One step, two steps, a third, a fourth. Mark kept walking, too. It scared Sean.

" Please, stop. I beg you, stop. "

          Mark didn't answer. He kept walking slowly, trying to catch Sean like a cat, a wild and afraid cat, who suffered too much and never found a good owner. Mark was the first. And it scared the cat even more.

" Please, don't move anymore, please. "

          Was it... Mark ? Was it Mark he've been seeing all this time ? In his stupid dreams, endless, scary, useless yet so intrigant dreams ? Sean became scared not only of Mark, but of himself too, his own mind, imagination. This place of creation in the right side of his brain replaced the future in his own head. It never made any sense. It still doesn't. Sean can't understand. Mark was at two meters. Or was it three ? Sean couldn't see much at night, the frail lamppost being the only source of light like his hope to die soon situation was the only thing keeping him away from insanity. He wished he couldn't see his red hair, his tan skin, his eyes full of hope and sorrow. He wished he couldn't hear his voice pleading him to stop, to not jump, to not kill himself in any matter.

" I beg you, stop. If you come closer, I'm gonna do it. "

           Sean felt the end of the bricks, the edge of the bridge. Fe felt the nothingness, he could almost feel the tiny and invisible waves hitting his imaginary bare feet. Mark was far from his ideals, yet close from his poor, skinny and pale body. Mark's body, not corpse, walked closer, and closer, and closer, slowly trying to reassure Sean, to mak him feel comfortable, at ease on with him, with life, with the world. He slowly out his hand on Sean's shoulder, his left shoulder exactly. Mark spoke, moved his mouth, but no sounds came to Sean's ears. Only the sound of the water under him, the wind above his head, the fast beating of his heart. Not dead yet, not dead yet.

" Please, don't touch me. Let me kill my fuckin' self. "

            A smile. Mark's signature. His smile. Soft yet destroyed face, tired yet hopeful eyes, chapped and faded pinkish lips, white and crooked teeth. His teeth and the whit eof his eyes were shining at the light of the moon. They looked too white, too bright for Sean. Sean was scared. Sean wanted to run away, to drown here and now. But Mark was keeping him here, taking furiously his shoulders. He couldn't move more. Mark moved his lips, put the smile aside and said silently those words he said before. Sean shuddered. Was it a deformation of his mind's imagination ?

" - Stop.  
\- I'm here for you.  
\- Shut up, go away.  
\- Please... "

           Mark moved closer, closer, again and again. Sean was scared, too scared. In a rush, he took the gun from his pocket and shoot.

~silence~

          Not a scream, not a sound of pain. Sean felt nothing after that. But strangely, strangely, he fely his eyes opening again. He felt the light of the moon burning his neck. He felt the edge of the bridge under his feet. He felt his heart beating at a normal rythme. But he felt blood running down his forehead, his cheek, his nose, his chin, in his mouth, his the right side of his face. Blood ran down his right eye, making his grey contact fall. A weight, unknown, pushed him. And suddenly, he flet the weight of a body, the weight of gravity on his confused body. He hit the cold water harder than he thought he would. He tried to move, but a body was blocking him. And when, after thirty seconds, he finally get back to the surface again, taking a deep breath of cold air, he felt a limp of red heir on his neck. He looked at Mark crushing him. Blood. A hole, as deep as his thoughts. Eyes closed, bleeding nose, open mouth. No movement, no heartbeat, Sean screamed. Under the light of the moon, under the cold of the night, he killed the only one wishing to live, and let alive the one wishing to die. With his own hands, hiw own weapon, his thoughts, he killed his friends.

And despite the tears, despite his endless screams, his faded blue and grey eyes and his chapped and never coming smile, he never wished to live more than now.

**Author's Note:**

> So, so, so. What did you think ? Sorry for the mistakes by the way.  
> Si, I know I said I had an entire fanfic for you, but it seems like I can't fuckin' write this stupid last chapter. Just the last one, huh. I wrote all the others, but not this one. And I really hate posting a fanfic that I didn't finish. Otherwise, I feel like I'll never end it. Sometimes, I'm stupid.  
> Well, this one-shot was based on Truce, A car, a torch, a death and maybe other songs from Twenty One Pilots. I don't why, they just inspire me right now. Oh, and I write songs too. In english. Just wanted to say. I'll never post them, but... Meh.  
> Welp, I'll let you go. I hope you liked it and, well...  
> See ya ;3


End file.
